I Talk to the Rain
by MissJuliet
Summary: Only then does he retreat, furious at his dignity being washed away and gurgling down with the blood splattered on his shirt and oozing from the cuts on his face. D18


**Title:** I Talk to the Rain  
**Prompt:** [March 17th] lay awake in lust and rust in the rain [**31_days** amnesty day]  
**Series:** Katekyo Hitman Reborn  
**Characters/Pairings**: Dino/Hibari  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** some kissing, nothing explicit  
**Word count:** 1024

When the rain starts to fall, Dino doesn't suggest calling it a draw. However, he does when the drizzle becomes a tormenting downpour and he thinks he can hear his bones squelching.  
Kyoya does not concede until he nearly slips in a puddle – but he doesn't, only because _a certain herbivore's whip_ is tangled around his tonfa, holding him steady.  
Only then does he retreat, furious at his dignity being washed away and gurgling down with the blood splattered on his shirt and oozing from the cuts on his face.  
So he turns around, the stampede of his feet hushed in the falling droplets. Lack of open hostility and direct rejection is an invitation, at least that's what Dino thinks. He follows his precious student and almost lover home.  
They walk in this silent conduct through the rain-laden empty streets of Namimori. Hibari is leading, Dino not quite by his side but not behind him either, close enough to let his heat radiate to Kyoya. Cavallone's men are trudging noiselessly in the background.  
They reach the tiny flat and Dino is not surprised at its austerity. One room, a bathroom and a kitchenette. A futon, a small desk, a small table. One lonely Mount Fuji picture. Nothing disposable.

"Hey, Kyoya? Could you give me a towel?" Dino seriously doesn't want to get a tonfa in the face for dripping on his floor.

"You needn't have got wet in the first place," scoffs Hibari, walking towards the closet.

"It was you who wanted to fight in the rain." Dino pouts. "And a change of clothes too, maybe?"  
Hibari gives him a predatory look. "What makes you think that I'd have clothes that could fit you?" But he pulls out two kimonos, one definitely L-sized and tosses the latter to Dino.

"Why do you-"

"Shut up and put it on or give it back," snaps Hibari as he starts to strip. Dino holds the kimono, now forgotten, eyes glued to Kyoya. Tie is is the first garment to go, Kyoya fiddles with it for a second, then lets it slip to the floor. He unbuttons the shirt with quick, deft movements, the fabric translucent, unsheathing pink, and violet where bruised, flesh. He's halfway done when he notices Dino's stare, head turning, eyes narrowing, lips twisting to bar teeth.

"Quit ogling, pervert. Turn around."

Dino complies – how could he not – but keeps stealing glances. There's something graceful, contemplative even about Kyoya.

"Hey, I've bruised you pretty badly," says Dino as he unbuckles his pants, sticking to his legs and slides them off his thighs. The soft, dry fabric of the kimono is very much welcome.

"You'll get a proper payback, don't worry." Dino can hear him smirk. It's not like he escaped unscathed himself. His ribs hurt.

"Why do you keep your father's - father's, right? - kimono? Don't you live by yourself?" But Hibari brushes off the question, striding to the bathroom.

Dino sighs and walks over to the kitchen. He rummages through the cupboards, then mutters some Italian to Romario and one of his men expedites under an umbrella to the nearest shop.  
When Hibari walks in again, he gives the cooking Cavallone a slight frown of disapproval before he settles down on his futon, feet curled up under him.

"I figured you'd be hungry," says Dino, mixing the contents of the pot. "So I'm making pasta. You'll like it."  
Hibari lets out a grunt of acknowledgement, closing his eyes, lashes rimming the dark socket. He puts on a nearly serene face; at least as calm as Dino has ever seen it.  
He abandons the boiling pasta and kneels down before Hibari. His eyes doesn't even crack open, there's only his steady breathing. When Dino shyly – almost apologetically – reaches out and tucks a jet-black lock behind Kyoya's ear, he jerks away from the touch only slightly.  
He leans in closer, bumping his nose into Hibari's. From the corner of his eyes he sees the boy's hands tighten into fists on his thighs.  
'Too much tension, huh?' He smirks inwardly and kisses Hibari tentatively, pressing his lips to Kyoya's mouth and neither withdrawing them nor deepening the kiss. Just leaving it there.  
His palms cover Hibari's small fists, and his thumb strokes the pale skin, feeling the blood thumping wildly in the boy's veins.  
And there are teeth on Dino's lower lip, sinking down bitterly, so Dino runs a tongue along those vicious lips. In exchange, Hibari delivers a punch into his gut. Dino moves away, hissing in sudden pain. Lip-biting was far more pleasant.

"Your pasta has boiled over." Hibari points out with a sadistic smile.

Hibari doesn't pour scorn on the meal, so meticulously prepared by the Italian, so he assumes it must really suit his tastes. There are no candles, only the ambient light from the stove, but it gets drowned in the dusk. Hibari eats in a fluent yet elegant motion, his fork not once clinking on the plate. Dino would love to see him sip red wine, and maybe even getting slightly intoxicated. Blush would look gorgeous on his pale face.  
Half an hour later (sadly, no wine) Hibari crosses the room to stand by the teary window.

"It's still raining."

"Mhmm." Such a casual remark for Kyoya.

"I'd love to kick you out." But Kyoya's voice is mischief-laden.

Dino wants to snake his arms around his waist, modestly obscured by the kimono; sip the dusk pooling under his eyes and in the crook of his neck and lick the last rays of dull light off his lips, but Hibari doesn't let him, stomping on his foot and shying away from the touch. Instead, he spins him around 180 degrees, and forges ahead, making Dino stumble backwards. He pushes him roughly down onto the futon. Languidly, he untangles the knots of his kimono and Dino immediately takes the chance to glue his face to the creamy abdomen.

The rain keeps tapping on the glass. Dino wishes it was endless, because it's an excuse to keep them close. But he knows that once their blood leaks down the drainpipe from the rooftop, it will be over.


End file.
